Makoto Sagara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makotosagara) wrote2009-07-25 02:49 am
makotosagara) wrote2009-07-25 02:49 am
[Original Fiction] Burning Secrets Act One, Chapter 1/?
Title: Burning Secrets
Author: Makoto Sagara
Rating: 16+
Warnings: Shonen ai, shojo ai, crossdressing, sap, smut, language, angst, action, adventure, time piece
Notes: Yes, this was originally a GW fanfic, but my former co-author and I, after many hours, decided that since the characters had morphed so much from their originals and that she would have no time to keep in with the help, that it would be put to better use by making it an original fiction. Some of the details have changed, which is to be expected, but I have tried to keep it to our original idea as much as humanly possible. Please enjoy, and review it so I can see how much you are liking the differences.
Act One
Chapter One: Introducing the Delinquent Duo
It was a beautiful April morning that allowed the sun to beam down upon the large manor of the Marquis de Velleforte and the surrounding countryside. The fields that bordered the house to one side were busy with their work of the day, and the scene was quite peaceful. That is, until a girl with flowing chestnut hair, in pale blue breeches, ran across the front flagstone walkway of the manor, closely chased by what looked like another girl with long chestnut hair in a peach colored dress.
"DEMETRIA! I will *get* you for this! This is the last time that I take your place," the one in the dress yelled, revealing that it was actually a young boy. All he received was a short laugh from his sister, who put on an extra burst of speed to leave him there.
"But, Dominick, you look so *lovely* in that dress," the girl yelled. That only incensed her twin brother to hitch his dress to his knees and lunge at her, knocking her to the ground with him landing on top of her.
"Mother is going to kill you if she finds out that I took your place to help embroider the altar skirt again," Dominick said. "And... I detest Master Dupree."
"Oh, no, what's happened this time?" Demetria said, pulling herself to her feet and offering her twin assistance with all his skirts. "Did he try to touch your bum again?"
"No, this time, he tried to *kiss* me. Really, Demi, I think we should tell Father about him. This is too far. He's a lecher, and besides, he's hideous."
"Now, brother, didn't Father tell you to not talk about our instructors that way? I mean, it's far too 'unlady-like'," she said, wiping the dirt from her breeches, and helping remove the soiled stains from her brother's dress.
He just stood there, fuming as his sister laughed at his plight, his dark violet eyes flaring dangerously, until she wrapped an arm around his waist. "I'm sorry, little brother. I will speak to Mother about this, tonight, during our reading time. Now, would you like me to show you the new trick that Monsieur René taught 'you' today?"
Dominick glared at her as if she had lost her mind, which caused them both to begin laughing. "Fine, but you know, you're much better at sword play than I am," Dominick said, walking with his sister to the back of the house to change into something more comfortable.
"Yes, and you're a much better dancer than I, so we're even," Demetria said.
"Oui, and if you both didn't sweetch so much, zen I would not haf to explain to Madame why 'er daughter steps on Monsieur Maxwell's feet so much. But, she iz delighted to find zat 'er son iz a wonderful dancer," a mysterious, heavily French accented voice called. A small woman with a tight knot of bright red hair on her head moved out of the shade of the house, revealing the children's nursemaid, turned Demetria's personal handmaid. "You are ze worst enfants that I 'ave ever seen. Even my brozers back 'ome are better be'aved."
Demetria laughed wickedly. "Ah, but only if I had been born a man, Lisette. Life would have been so much better for me. I could practice swordplay all day, get to go hunting, wear breeches as much as humanly possible. Why, I believe I would wear them to sleep as well. Being a girl is much too much of a bother. Dom here makes a better woman than I do."
Dominick puffed out his chest, insulted by the remark on his feminine looks. "Demi, it's bad enough that Father is always commenting on how 'weak' and 'girlish' I am. Must you do it as well?"
Demetria hugged her brother tightly in a peace offer before turning to the maid. "Where is my dress, Maman Lisette?"
"Monsieur Dominick iz wearing it. I told you ziz morning zat iz ze dress your maman wanted you to wear," Lisette said, her face stern as she watched the twins sigh simultaneously.
"Fine, Lisette, turn around while we change," Dominick said, motioning for Demetria to help him unbutton the confining dress he was in. "I hate this as much as you do, Demi. I can't wait to speak to Father this evening about *that* man. This is the fourth time this month he has tried to grope or violate my person because he thought I was you." He managed to get the rest of the peach monstrosity of a dress off, snatching the blue breeches, vest and white shirt from his sister's proffered hand. "And I promise you, Demi, no *more* covering for you from embroidery or dancing. I *need* to practice with Monsieur René from now on."
"Oh, Dominick, dear brother, you *know* I hate those mundane things," Demetria said, muffled through the many layers of taffeta and cloth. "I fear I shall never make a good wife to *any* man."
"Now, now, Mademoiselle Demetria, don't say zat," Lisette said, helping to adjust the final pleats and creases of the dress, and helping the young master to fix his vest. "You will make zome man a wonderful bride."
"Yes, Demi, and if you never get married due to your ornery nature, you can always come and live with me and my beautiful, nice, talented, and wonderful wife," Dominick added, sticking out his tongue to his older sister, who immediately started to chase after him.
Lisette sighed, knowing it was of no use to try and tame the two children. They had always been very lively and very close. Even when the father had tried to separate them for any amount of time, he eventually left them to one another. Grim had been the day that he had casually mentioned sending Dominick off to Germany for a formal education. Demetria had thrown fits, screaming, throwing things, making herself sick, and being very unpleasant to everyone. Dominick had suffered in silence, as he did most things, nodding to his father when spoken to, and keeping to himself. The only way that the maid had known that he was opposed to the separation was that one day, she'd found the two children in the forest behind the house, both in tears. A week later, the idea of the Marquis sending his son off to Germany was dropped and never spoken of again.
Since then, the best tutors had been to the large estate to teach both the children, and many had left in shambles. If they didn't get discouraged by Master Dominick's lack of interest, but total knowledge, of the subject, they went insane by the circles that Mistress Demetria ran around them. The latest batch of teachers had managed to last the longest, four months, and seemed to be getting along well with the children. Both the girl and the boy loved the sword master, thought the world of their German instructress, labored through their lessons of History, English and Reading from a stern gentleman tutor, and detested the dancing instructor.
Dominick had made it to the forest's edge before he turned to see his twin making her way cautiously over to him. "Demi, when was the last time you saw Mother?"
The girl paused dead in her tracks, a pensive look upon her face. "I suppose it was not too long after breakfast. Why?"
"Don't you remember what today is?" he asked, pulling his waist length hair from off his neck. "She is having 'company' over."
Demetria groaned. "Oh, mon Dieu! That means I'm going to be required to show up aren't I?" she whined. "I hate these functions. Dom, please..."
"Demi! No! I just covered for you with Dupree. Deal with the old women today, and remember to be polite. Mother will be ashamed if you are not a 'good' girl in front of the society ladies."
"But, Dom..."
"No, Demi! I have shooting practice with Father this afternoon, and then I must sit in with him on problems with the local villagers. Besides, they'll *know* if we switch," he hissed, marching back towards the house, snatching an extra ribbon from his twin's hand and tying back his hair with it. "Good luck, sister dear." He waved and was soon inside the safety of the huge manor.
"I hate this," Demetria said, turning her back on the house that would soon seal her doom. While the outside led everyone to believe that all was fine and normal in the Marquis's household, anyone who knew the family knew that Demetria was quite the handful. Not that her mother, Charlotte, was any better. The woman doted upon her daughter needlessly, dragging her to the seamstress, formal teas, garden parties, and anything else that they were invited to attend. Demetria was expected to become good friends with the dunderheads that passed as the other nobles' children.
The girl would have continued cursing her luck, but her thoughts were interrupted by the call of her mother. "Demetria Marie Maxwell!"
"Coming, Mother," she called, running towards the side door, where her mother was standing. Demetria and Dominick looked almost nothing like their beautiful blonde mother. The only thing they had inherited from the stately woman was the shade of their eyes. Demetria's were the same steely-violet as her mother's, while Dominick's eyes were so dark a shade of blue-violet that unless one stood up close to him, it was impossible to discern the natural color. In fact, that was the only feature that distinguished the twins from one another, besides the obvious difference.
"Really, Demetria, try to behave like a lady," Charlotte said, while not noticing her daughter rolling her eyes. "A lady..."
"...Does not run. She glides, and makes others wait for her. She is a symbol of grace and well breeding. Every action she makes is a reflection upon her family's honor and good name," Demetria finished in a singsong voice. "I know, Mother."
"So, tell me why I must tell you this everyday, sometimes twice a day? Look at you! You're a mess. Where is Lisette?"
"'Ere, Madame Charlotte," the maid said, coming up behind the young heiress, and curtseying.
"Take Demetria to her room, and find another dress to wear. That one is a frightful mess," Charlotte commanded, and watched as both of the younger women left. "Really, one would think my daughter would have more décor than that."
"Then one would not know our daughter," said a male behind her, startling the poor woman out of her mind for a moment. Turning, Charlotte found herself face to face with the regal looking man she had married fourteen years ago, the Marquis de Velleforte, Richard Maxwell. A slight breeze picked up and blew his ear length chestnut hair about his face. "Oh, Richard, there you are. And you are right. Demetria is so..."
"Rebellious. Would that she were more like Dominick. That boy is so obedient, it's frightening sometimes," he said, wrapping his arms around his wife affectionately.
"No, Dominick is the best behaved young man his age. He has never even thought of causing trouble with the villagers. It is Demetria that they come to complain about," she said dejectedly, sighing.
"Well, she will calm down in time," Richard said diplomatically. He pulled out a beautiful gold pocket watch and sighed. "I must take Dominick out shooting now. There is a hunting party in a few weeks from now. He needs to be in top form. Then, we will be dealing with the local villagers. The boy must learn how to be a good magistrate. One day, this will all be his land."
"Yes, it is a good idea that he attend to those matters," Charlotte said off-handedly. "I will see to is that supper is ready when you return. Enjoy your day, darling." She placed a cool kiss on her husband's cheek, and breezed back into the manor.
Dominick passed his mother in the hallway, bowing to her and receiving a nod of the head as she moved, and made his way out to the garden, where his father stood. "Father," he said, readjusting the large musket in his arms.
"Ah, Dominick, my boy, there you are. How was sword practice with Master René this morning? Or should I ask Master Dupree how you faired during dancing instruction," Richard asked, eyes twinkling in mirth.
Dominick's cheeks flushed before he drew himself to his full height. "Sword practice was well enough, Father," he said. "I spoke with my sister afterwards, and really Monsieur Dupree has been overstepping the boundaries as of late."
"Dominick," Richard replied sternly. "Master Dupree is the *last* instructor who will come and deal with you two. Now, you will drop this subject, and we will continue with our day's plans."
"But, Father..."
"Enough! One more word about Master Dupree, and you will find yourself helping the stable boys next week," the Marquis snapped, his blue eyes blazing cold fire. "You and your sister are a handful and more, but you will *not* insult your instructors. It is not a proper thing to do. Now, grab your side-pistol as well, and we will begin."
"Yes, Father," the boy replied, going into the house and returning a few moments later, a pistol strapped to his side, and followed his father to the practice area.
~
Demetria sat at the table with her mother and a few other ladies, all old friends of her mother from London. She listened half-heartedly to the inane chatter that made up the conversation, smiling and nodding when addressed. She wished for nothing more than to be with her brother and father, learning how to shoot a gun. No matter how many times she and Dominick switched places, her twin refused to allow her to take his place during his time with their father; which left her to deal with their mother and whatever social calls that were being made that day.
One woman had taken a particular interest in Demetria during the tea. Her mother had introduced all of the ladies, of course, and the girl searched her mind for the name that had been said in passing. Madeleine... Something... A countess... Umbridge? No, that wasn't correct. It started with a 'u', Demetria was sure of it, but the Devil take her soul if she could remember.
"Demetria, would you mind if I spoke to you a moment," the woman that she had been thinking about just that moment asked, her red hair shining in the midday sun.
"Of course not, Countess," Demetria muttered, standing and following the elegant lady, as she seemed to float out towards the gardens. When they were alone, the Countess turned to the young girl and smiled.
"My name is Madeleine Une, dear," she said. "I know how utterly boring these gossip sessions, formally called teas, can be, and how easy it is to tune out the chatter around you." Demetria smiled gratefully.
"Yes, but Mother insists that I sit and converse politely while I am bored to death."
"Ah, yes, well, Charlotte does seem to live for this sort of thing," Countess Une replied, looking out to the surrounding gardens. She then turned to take a long look at the child next to her. "You will soon be a woman." She sighed. "Then, of course, there will be the many balls during the Season that your mother will insist upon."
Demetria grimaced. "Yes and, well, I am not looking forward to that part."
Une laughed in response. "No woman in her right mind *really* looks forward to the Season, dear. I was absolutely devastated when I was told that I was going out to the circuit."
"But...you... seem so..."
"So what, dear?"
"Used to it?"
That made Une laugh again, and Demetria gave a smile at the light, carefree way the woman expressed her humor. "Yes, I suppose I am used to it. I was engaged after my first Season, and that Christmas was my wedding. I believe that I was only a few years older than you are now. Hmmm, how old are you and your twin brother, Dominick, correct?"
"Yes, and we will be twelve in ten days," Demetria replied, looking away from the tall woman next to her. "May I ask why you have this interest in my brother and I?"
"Of course, dear child. Your mother has asked that I sponsor you when you are to debut in a few Seasons."
"Isn't that a bit... young?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it is, but Charlotte is just *positive* that you will be ready for all of the excitement on your fourteenth year. You won't, of course, appear before then, but it shall be interesting to see what the other ladies think of the Marquis and Marquessa de Velleforte's daughter."
Demetria blushed and turned her face out towards the woods, letting the cool April wind blow across her heated countenance. "Countess, may I ask you something?"
"What is it, Demetria?"
"How does one deal with an instructor that is making unwanted advances?"
"Excuse me?"
Author: Makoto Sagara
Rating: 16+
Warnings: Shonen ai, shojo ai, crossdressing, sap, smut, language, angst, action, adventure, time piece
Notes: Yes, this was originally a GW fanfic, but my former co-author and I, after many hours, decided that since the characters had morphed so much from their originals and that she would have no time to keep in with the help, that it would be put to better use by making it an original fiction. Some of the details have changed, which is to be expected, but I have tried to keep it to our original idea as much as humanly possible. Please enjoy, and review it so I can see how much you are liking the differences.
Act One
Chapter One: Introducing the Delinquent Duo
It was a beautiful April morning that allowed the sun to beam down upon the large manor of the Marquis de Velleforte and the surrounding countryside. The fields that bordered the house to one side were busy with their work of the day, and the scene was quite peaceful. That is, until a girl with flowing chestnut hair, in pale blue breeches, ran across the front flagstone walkway of the manor, closely chased by what looked like another girl with long chestnut hair in a peach colored dress.
"DEMETRIA! I will *get* you for this! This is the last time that I take your place," the one in the dress yelled, revealing that it was actually a young boy. All he received was a short laugh from his sister, who put on an extra burst of speed to leave him there.
"But, Dominick, you look so *lovely* in that dress," the girl yelled. That only incensed her twin brother to hitch his dress to his knees and lunge at her, knocking her to the ground with him landing on top of her.
"Mother is going to kill you if she finds out that I took your place to help embroider the altar skirt again," Dominick said. "And... I detest Master Dupree."
"Oh, no, what's happened this time?" Demetria said, pulling herself to her feet and offering her twin assistance with all his skirts. "Did he try to touch your bum again?"
"No, this time, he tried to *kiss* me. Really, Demi, I think we should tell Father about him. This is too far. He's a lecher, and besides, he's hideous."
"Now, brother, didn't Father tell you to not talk about our instructors that way? I mean, it's far too 'unlady-like'," she said, wiping the dirt from her breeches, and helping remove the soiled stains from her brother's dress.
He just stood there, fuming as his sister laughed at his plight, his dark violet eyes flaring dangerously, until she wrapped an arm around his waist. "I'm sorry, little brother. I will speak to Mother about this, tonight, during our reading time. Now, would you like me to show you the new trick that Monsieur René taught 'you' today?"
Dominick glared at her as if she had lost her mind, which caused them both to begin laughing. "Fine, but you know, you're much better at sword play than I am," Dominick said, walking with his sister to the back of the house to change into something more comfortable.
"Yes, and you're a much better dancer than I, so we're even," Demetria said.
"Oui, and if you both didn't sweetch so much, zen I would not haf to explain to Madame why 'er daughter steps on Monsieur Maxwell's feet so much. But, she iz delighted to find zat 'er son iz a wonderful dancer," a mysterious, heavily French accented voice called. A small woman with a tight knot of bright red hair on her head moved out of the shade of the house, revealing the children's nursemaid, turned Demetria's personal handmaid. "You are ze worst enfants that I 'ave ever seen. Even my brozers back 'ome are better be'aved."
Demetria laughed wickedly. "Ah, but only if I had been born a man, Lisette. Life would have been so much better for me. I could practice swordplay all day, get to go hunting, wear breeches as much as humanly possible. Why, I believe I would wear them to sleep as well. Being a girl is much too much of a bother. Dom here makes a better woman than I do."
Dominick puffed out his chest, insulted by the remark on his feminine looks. "Demi, it's bad enough that Father is always commenting on how 'weak' and 'girlish' I am. Must you do it as well?"
Demetria hugged her brother tightly in a peace offer before turning to the maid. "Where is my dress, Maman Lisette?"
"Monsieur Dominick iz wearing it. I told you ziz morning zat iz ze dress your maman wanted you to wear," Lisette said, her face stern as she watched the twins sigh simultaneously.
"Fine, Lisette, turn around while we change," Dominick said, motioning for Demetria to help him unbutton the confining dress he was in. "I hate this as much as you do, Demi. I can't wait to speak to Father this evening about *that* man. This is the fourth time this month he has tried to grope or violate my person because he thought I was you." He managed to get the rest of the peach monstrosity of a dress off, snatching the blue breeches, vest and white shirt from his sister's proffered hand. "And I promise you, Demi, no *more* covering for you from embroidery or dancing. I *need* to practice with Monsieur René from now on."
"Oh, Dominick, dear brother, you *know* I hate those mundane things," Demetria said, muffled through the many layers of taffeta and cloth. "I fear I shall never make a good wife to *any* man."
"Now, now, Mademoiselle Demetria, don't say zat," Lisette said, helping to adjust the final pleats and creases of the dress, and helping the young master to fix his vest. "You will make zome man a wonderful bride."
"Yes, Demi, and if you never get married due to your ornery nature, you can always come and live with me and my beautiful, nice, talented, and wonderful wife," Dominick added, sticking out his tongue to his older sister, who immediately started to chase after him.
Lisette sighed, knowing it was of no use to try and tame the two children. They had always been very lively and very close. Even when the father had tried to separate them for any amount of time, he eventually left them to one another. Grim had been the day that he had casually mentioned sending Dominick off to Germany for a formal education. Demetria had thrown fits, screaming, throwing things, making herself sick, and being very unpleasant to everyone. Dominick had suffered in silence, as he did most things, nodding to his father when spoken to, and keeping to himself. The only way that the maid had known that he was opposed to the separation was that one day, she'd found the two children in the forest behind the house, both in tears. A week later, the idea of the Marquis sending his son off to Germany was dropped and never spoken of again.
Since then, the best tutors had been to the large estate to teach both the children, and many had left in shambles. If they didn't get discouraged by Master Dominick's lack of interest, but total knowledge, of the subject, they went insane by the circles that Mistress Demetria ran around them. The latest batch of teachers had managed to last the longest, four months, and seemed to be getting along well with the children. Both the girl and the boy loved the sword master, thought the world of their German instructress, labored through their lessons of History, English and Reading from a stern gentleman tutor, and detested the dancing instructor.
Dominick had made it to the forest's edge before he turned to see his twin making her way cautiously over to him. "Demi, when was the last time you saw Mother?"
The girl paused dead in her tracks, a pensive look upon her face. "I suppose it was not too long after breakfast. Why?"
"Don't you remember what today is?" he asked, pulling his waist length hair from off his neck. "She is having 'company' over."
Demetria groaned. "Oh, mon Dieu! That means I'm going to be required to show up aren't I?" she whined. "I hate these functions. Dom, please..."
"Demi! No! I just covered for you with Dupree. Deal with the old women today, and remember to be polite. Mother will be ashamed if you are not a 'good' girl in front of the society ladies."
"But, Dom..."
"No, Demi! I have shooting practice with Father this afternoon, and then I must sit in with him on problems with the local villagers. Besides, they'll *know* if we switch," he hissed, marching back towards the house, snatching an extra ribbon from his twin's hand and tying back his hair with it. "Good luck, sister dear." He waved and was soon inside the safety of the huge manor.
"I hate this," Demetria said, turning her back on the house that would soon seal her doom. While the outside led everyone to believe that all was fine and normal in the Marquis's household, anyone who knew the family knew that Demetria was quite the handful. Not that her mother, Charlotte, was any better. The woman doted upon her daughter needlessly, dragging her to the seamstress, formal teas, garden parties, and anything else that they were invited to attend. Demetria was expected to become good friends with the dunderheads that passed as the other nobles' children.
The girl would have continued cursing her luck, but her thoughts were interrupted by the call of her mother. "Demetria Marie Maxwell!"
"Coming, Mother," she called, running towards the side door, where her mother was standing. Demetria and Dominick looked almost nothing like their beautiful blonde mother. The only thing they had inherited from the stately woman was the shade of their eyes. Demetria's were the same steely-violet as her mother's, while Dominick's eyes were so dark a shade of blue-violet that unless one stood up close to him, it was impossible to discern the natural color. In fact, that was the only feature that distinguished the twins from one another, besides the obvious difference.
"Really, Demetria, try to behave like a lady," Charlotte said, while not noticing her daughter rolling her eyes. "A lady..."
"...Does not run. She glides, and makes others wait for her. She is a symbol of grace and well breeding. Every action she makes is a reflection upon her family's honor and good name," Demetria finished in a singsong voice. "I know, Mother."
"So, tell me why I must tell you this everyday, sometimes twice a day? Look at you! You're a mess. Where is Lisette?"
"'Ere, Madame Charlotte," the maid said, coming up behind the young heiress, and curtseying.
"Take Demetria to her room, and find another dress to wear. That one is a frightful mess," Charlotte commanded, and watched as both of the younger women left. "Really, one would think my daughter would have more décor than that."
"Then one would not know our daughter," said a male behind her, startling the poor woman out of her mind for a moment. Turning, Charlotte found herself face to face with the regal looking man she had married fourteen years ago, the Marquis de Velleforte, Richard Maxwell. A slight breeze picked up and blew his ear length chestnut hair about his face. "Oh, Richard, there you are. And you are right. Demetria is so..."
"Rebellious. Would that she were more like Dominick. That boy is so obedient, it's frightening sometimes," he said, wrapping his arms around his wife affectionately.
"No, Dominick is the best behaved young man his age. He has never even thought of causing trouble with the villagers. It is Demetria that they come to complain about," she said dejectedly, sighing.
"Well, she will calm down in time," Richard said diplomatically. He pulled out a beautiful gold pocket watch and sighed. "I must take Dominick out shooting now. There is a hunting party in a few weeks from now. He needs to be in top form. Then, we will be dealing with the local villagers. The boy must learn how to be a good magistrate. One day, this will all be his land."
"Yes, it is a good idea that he attend to those matters," Charlotte said off-handedly. "I will see to is that supper is ready when you return. Enjoy your day, darling." She placed a cool kiss on her husband's cheek, and breezed back into the manor.
Dominick passed his mother in the hallway, bowing to her and receiving a nod of the head as she moved, and made his way out to the garden, where his father stood. "Father," he said, readjusting the large musket in his arms.
"Ah, Dominick, my boy, there you are. How was sword practice with Master René this morning? Or should I ask Master Dupree how you faired during dancing instruction," Richard asked, eyes twinkling in mirth.
Dominick's cheeks flushed before he drew himself to his full height. "Sword practice was well enough, Father," he said. "I spoke with my sister afterwards, and really Monsieur Dupree has been overstepping the boundaries as of late."
"Dominick," Richard replied sternly. "Master Dupree is the *last* instructor who will come and deal with you two. Now, you will drop this subject, and we will continue with our day's plans."
"But, Father..."
"Enough! One more word about Master Dupree, and you will find yourself helping the stable boys next week," the Marquis snapped, his blue eyes blazing cold fire. "You and your sister are a handful and more, but you will *not* insult your instructors. It is not a proper thing to do. Now, grab your side-pistol as well, and we will begin."
"Yes, Father," the boy replied, going into the house and returning a few moments later, a pistol strapped to his side, and followed his father to the practice area.
~
Demetria sat at the table with her mother and a few other ladies, all old friends of her mother from London. She listened half-heartedly to the inane chatter that made up the conversation, smiling and nodding when addressed. She wished for nothing more than to be with her brother and father, learning how to shoot a gun. No matter how many times she and Dominick switched places, her twin refused to allow her to take his place during his time with their father; which left her to deal with their mother and whatever social calls that were being made that day.
One woman had taken a particular interest in Demetria during the tea. Her mother had introduced all of the ladies, of course, and the girl searched her mind for the name that had been said in passing. Madeleine... Something... A countess... Umbridge? No, that wasn't correct. It started with a 'u', Demetria was sure of it, but the Devil take her soul if she could remember.
"Demetria, would you mind if I spoke to you a moment," the woman that she had been thinking about just that moment asked, her red hair shining in the midday sun.
"Of course not, Countess," Demetria muttered, standing and following the elegant lady, as she seemed to float out towards the gardens. When they were alone, the Countess turned to the young girl and smiled.
"My name is Madeleine Une, dear," she said. "I know how utterly boring these gossip sessions, formally called teas, can be, and how easy it is to tune out the chatter around you." Demetria smiled gratefully.
"Yes, but Mother insists that I sit and converse politely while I am bored to death."
"Ah, yes, well, Charlotte does seem to live for this sort of thing," Countess Une replied, looking out to the surrounding gardens. She then turned to take a long look at the child next to her. "You will soon be a woman." She sighed. "Then, of course, there will be the many balls during the Season that your mother will insist upon."
Demetria grimaced. "Yes and, well, I am not looking forward to that part."
Une laughed in response. "No woman in her right mind *really* looks forward to the Season, dear. I was absolutely devastated when I was told that I was going out to the circuit."
"But...you... seem so..."
"So what, dear?"
"Used to it?"
That made Une laugh again, and Demetria gave a smile at the light, carefree way the woman expressed her humor. "Yes, I suppose I am used to it. I was engaged after my first Season, and that Christmas was my wedding. I believe that I was only a few years older than you are now. Hmmm, how old are you and your twin brother, Dominick, correct?"
"Yes, and we will be twelve in ten days," Demetria replied, looking away from the tall woman next to her. "May I ask why you have this interest in my brother and I?"
"Of course, dear child. Your mother has asked that I sponsor you when you are to debut in a few Seasons."
"Isn't that a bit... young?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it is, but Charlotte is just *positive* that you will be ready for all of the excitement on your fourteenth year. You won't, of course, appear before then, but it shall be interesting to see what the other ladies think of the Marquis and Marquessa de Velleforte's daughter."
Demetria blushed and turned her face out towards the woods, letting the cool April wind blow across her heated countenance. "Countess, may I ask you something?"
"What is it, Demetria?"
"How does one deal with an instructor that is making unwanted advances?"
"Excuse me?"